Beasts
by Jack272
Summary: Little bit of Vampire: The Masquerade fiction. Hope you enjoy and reviews are appreciated. I do not own anything by White Wolf
1. Chapter 1

I have always enjoyed the cold. Snow, ice, chilling winds: all of it. It doesn't bother me, I've learned to ignore the extremes in nature, but there is something about the cold. It makes me feel almost alive again.

Unfortunately, I had no time to enjoy the snow; my prey was afoot.

I walked slowly, keeping in the shadows. The dark held no secrets from me, my vision picked up the heat off his body, the nice, warm blood lighting him up like a bonfire. I licked my lips involuntarily.

This one had been running for a while; three weeks or so, I believe. Times like this I wish knew Celerity. Ah, fuck it. I'm fast enough; this guy's just too tricky for his own damn good.

He was some moron Brujah's Ghoul; a jackass who couldn't keep his mouth shut. Enough so that my master sent me on the redeye to Chicago to take him out. He's a smart little bastard though, I'll give him that. He knew how to disappear, and more importantly when. It took me a good while to find him too; the little fucker had to have a cache of fake ids and hidey-holes. But shit, I'm a Gangrel, a natural hunter, and I was a homicide detective while I was alive. Ultimately, this guy had no chance.

I kept my hands in my coat pockets to hide my claws from the humans walking around us. Chicago was a busy city, but then again, it was only about 8:00. The Ghoul stopped at a crosswalk, grimaced at the traffic, then decided to cut through a back alley. That closed the deal.

I waited until he was about halfway down the alley before I followed. He didn't hear me, but then again, I didn't allow him to. I looked over my shoulder to check if the coast was clear. Nobody. I couldn't help but smile.

My blood burned as I allowed myself to dive deeper into Protean, not enough for a full transformation, but enough for my claws becoming shaper, my senses increasing even beyond a normal vampire, and my eyes turning a deep, bright orange. I growled softly as I ran on all fours towards him, my steps not making a single sound. I'll give him credit though; he turned around at the last second, right before I tore out his throat.

I lapped the blood off my claws, but it tasted like shit, so I spit it out on the snow. I closed my eyes and coaxed my Beast into submission, and I eased back into my normal form, my vision fading back to normal. I reached into my coat pocket and took out my cell phone. As I flipped it open, the network logo popped on screen; the Nosferatu clan symbol. They were all ugly as sin, but hell; they're good at what they do. I dialed my master's number and waited for her to pick up. Finally, on the seventh ring, she answered:

"Hello? Gabe?"

Ah, Alex, how I love her rough voice. She appears to be in her early twenties, and she has dark, red hair. She's around 5'5, but well muscled and lean…like a wolf. I think she's around 90 years old, but I'm just speculating; all I really care about is staying by her side.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Has the problem been dealt with?"

"Staring at it right now. He tastes like shit."

She sighed with relief. "Ugh, thank God. Finally, we're all evened up with LaCroix . Arrogant bastard. Oh, by the way, I need you here tonight."

"Where's here?"

"L.A. Hollywood, the Nocturne Theater."

"Aw shit. L.A.?"

"Yep."

"I hate L.A. What's going down?"

"I'm not totally sure, but it's big enough that LaCroix called for a meeting. We were both invited…and so were the Anarchs."

I raised my eyebrows at that.

"Yeah, alright. I can be there in about four hours."

"Hurry. The meeting starts at 1:00."

"Yeah, no problem. I'll meet you there."

"Stay safe."

"Ditto." The line went dead. I grimaced; I was hoping for a quick meal, but I'd have to skip it. I dialed another number, one for a private airline, and I arranged for a flight to L.A. Funds were transferred from God knows where and I had a ticket. Plane would be ready to leave when I get there, they promised. I hung up and slipped the phone back into my pocket. I took one last look at the Ghoul's corpse, then I walked out of the alley to hail a cab. I sighed as I walked; there wouldn't be any snow in Los Angeles.

_End of Part I_


	2. Chapter 2

About five hours later, I arrived at the Nocturne Theater just before 1:00. My Sire sighed with relief as I sat beside her. She wrapped her arm around mine and I almost melted. Despite her touch, I couldn't help but look around the room. Alex was right; there were some prime players here: Nines Rodriguez and his crew, Maximillian Strauss, Therese Voerman, Velvet Velour (Jesus wept), Isaac, and even a few Nosferatu were poking out their ugly heads.

"What's going on?" I whispered to Alex.

"I didn't get any details, but-"

She was interrupted by Prince Lacroix's entrance. Around him stood two vampires carrying two others, both staked, and his Sheriff. I silently snarled at the big gorilla, my Beast straining at his chains; he gave my clan a bad rep, being Lacroix's fucking lackey.

Alex sensed my discomfort and held my closer. She laid her head on my shoulder, and I inhaled the scent from her hair. It did the trick; my Beast slumbered.

"Thanks."

"I know he pisses you off, Gabe, but I can't tell you how quickly you'd be ash if you let yourself go in here."

"I know, I know; I'm just a little hungry."

"Sorry, sugar. I know I rushed you here."

"S'okay. I'll hunt after this is over; the night's still young."

Lacroix cleared his throat as the two staked vampires were eased to the floor. The stakes were removed and the Prince began speaking:

"Good evening. My fellow Kindred, my apologies for disrupting any business or interfering with any prior engagements you may have had this evening. It's unfortunate that the affair that gathers us together tonight is a troubling one. We are here because the laws that bind our society, the laws that are the fabric of our existence, have been broken. As Prince, I am within my rights to grant or deny the Kindred of this city, the privilege of Siring. Many of you have come to me seeking permission, and I have endorsed some of these requests. However," he said waving his hand towards a male vampire held down by a tall Brujah, "The accused that sits before you tonight was not refused permission; indeed, my permission was never sought at all. They were caught shortly after the Embrace of this Childe." He pointed to the second vampire.

"It pains me to announce the sentence, as, up till tonight, I considered the accused a loyal and upstanding member of our organization. But as some of you may know, the penalty of this transgression…is death. Know that I am no more a judicator than I am a servant to the law that governs us all. Let tonight's proceedings serve as a reminder to our community that we must adhere to the code that binds our society, lest we endanger all of our blood."

He bent low to the male vampire and said, "Forgive me. Let the penalty commence."

Lacoix nodded his head to the Sheriff, who unslung his massive broadsword. He raised it high. I spotted Velvet turning away as the huge Gangrel decapitated the poor man, his body turning to ash. The kneeling woman groaned. LaCroix continued:

"Which leads to the fate of the ill-begotten prodigy. Without a Sire, most Childe are doomed to walk the Earth never knowing their place, their responsibility, and most importantly, their laws they must obey. Therefore, I have decided that-"

"THIS IS BULLSHIT!"

I turned sharply towards the interruption, my hand moving down to the knife on my belt entirely on instinct. It was Rodriguez, who was now standing on his feet, restrained by his companions. I heard Alex growl softly; it comforted me to know I wasn't the only one surprised by the Anarch's outburst.

Lacroix furrowed his brow at the resulting murmur of discontent that swept the crowd of Kindred.

"If Mr. Rodriguez would let me finish. I have decided to let this Kindred live. They shall be instructed in the ways of our kind, and be granted the same rights. Let no one say I am unsympathetic to the plights and causes of this community. I thank you all attending these proceedings, and I hope their significance is not lost…"

And with that, the Fledgling's shackles were cut, and the Kindred began to file out. Alex and I stood, both of us with expressions of disdain; politics…yeesh. Alex, bless her patience, was more tolerant than I on the subject, but even she looked disgusted at the event. She turned to me and said, "Let's roll. I want to get out of Camarilla territory as soon as possible. After all this shit, I got a feeling L.A. is going to be a madhouse."

I nodded in agreement, but I would've left this city at any excuse; way too much drama in Los Angeles for me.

Alex suddenly sighed. "Damn it. I forgot to talk to LaCroix about that Ghoul." She bit her lip. "Go on ahead and get us a cab, I'll meet you outside." She stood on her tiptoes and pecked my cheek while I tried to stay coherent. She giggled and walked off to where LaCroix was. I stood still for a moment, watching over her, until I spotted none other than the infamous Smilin' Jack himself. He lived up to his name as he walked over to me with that big grin on his face.

"Heeeeey, if it isn't my favorite animal! How ya doing, Gabe?"

I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my lips. Jack's grin spread like a fucking virus. "Not too bad, Jack. How bout you?" I said as my southern drawl slithered into my accent.

"Ah, you know; same ole' bullshit. Can you believe this crap LaCroix pulled? I swear only a Ventrue could pull off something like that," he said shaking his head.

"Hell, you know me and Alex, Jack. We couldn't give two shits." I pulled out a pack of cigarettes from my coat pocket and lit one with a cheap Bic lighter.

"Bah. Politics are good for the soul, man. It's one of the few things that can light up a Kindred's blood to almost room temperature."

I chuckled. "Well, I say fuck the whole damn mess; too much of a hassle for me."

"Heh, gotta say I wish I had that mentality. Guess it just comes with the blood, eh?"

"I suppose so. So what's gonna happen with the kid?"

Jack actually frowned. "You know what, I'm gonna check her out, see that she gets situated alright."

I took a deep drag. "You do that, Jack. Meanwhile, I need to get a cab." I threw him a little wave. "Try to stay alive."

"Ha! You too, bud."

We parted ways as I walked out the front door towards the street. I was one of the last ones out, but I still didn't see Alex anywhere. As I walked toward the street to hail a cab, I heard an explosion of gunfire back towards the theater. Instinctively, I burned a little of my dwindling reservoir of blood and activated my lowest level of Protean to enhance my senses. I smelled Sabaat blood in the air. I snarled and ran back behind the alleys where the scent was strongest. I spotted three of the shovel-heads sneaking around back. I roared and charged at them. They turned and fired at me, measly little .38s that did jack-shit to my body.

I caught one in the face and crushed it between my fingers. I turned and caught the second in the throat with my elbow, effectively crushing his windpipe. The third panicked and ran, but I grabbed my knife and hurled it at his back; fucker deserved it running like that. It caught him right between the shoulder blades and he fell like a ton of bricks. I ran towards his body and nabbed my knife. I kept running until I arrived at the main battlefield; dozens of Sabaat humans and Kindred fighting Anarchs and Camarilla. I tried to spot Alex, but she wasn't in sight. I decided to take out my frustrations on the Sabaat.

I unsheathed my second knife and jumped into the fray, shrugging off bullets and knife blows, and killing as many as I could. I spotted a lone Sabaat servant and I latched on to him. I ripped into his throat and sucked him dry, finally getting my evening meal. Using my newly acquired blood, I summoned a flock of blood bats that descending on several more Sabaat, ripping them apart and returning even more blood to me.

It was at this time the Sheriff himself appeared and I decided to haul it; the gorilla could clean up the mess by himself. I retreated back to the populated streets and tried to call Alex on my phone. It rang and rang and rang, but no answer. I cursed, and yanked out another cigarette. I lit it and puffed furiously. Finally, I spotted Damsel, one of Rodriguez's crew, walking my way.

"Pretty lady! Over here!" I yelled as I waved her over.

She saw me and scowled, but that was normal for Damsel. "What the hell do you want, Gabe?"

"Have you seen Alex? I lost her in the fight."

"Last I saw, she was talking to the asshole, LaCroix." She furrowed her brow. "You two aren't becoming Cammie bootlickers, are you?!"

"Jesus, take some Ritalin or something, just calm the fuck down."

"Yeah, yeah. Uh, they were still in the theater when I last saw them, before the Sabaat started shit."

I took another drag, smoke filling my dead lungs. "Damn it. Well, thanks anyway, darlin'."

"Whatever." She suddenly took on a cute, almost pouty expression, which is weird for Damsel. "Soooo…when are you two going to join up with the right side, huh?"

"The Anarchs? Heh, yeah right, sweetie. Politics ain't our game."

"Oh come on! Those fuckin' Cammies-"

"Nope. Not in mood for a Camarilla rant tonight, sweetheart. Call me if you see Alex."

She sighed in exasperation. "Yeah, sure."

I walked off, my head swimming with worry. I spotted a couple of Sabaat Kindred run out of an alley; they were really high-tailing it. One caught my eye and stared. I just bared my fangs and he took off with his friends. Too damn many Kine here to start anything. A growl vibrated though my throat. God, where is she? I tried her cell again, but got nothing. I hung around until morning, the sun forcing me to take refuge in one of the local havens in Santa Monica; an apartment above a local pawn shop. I walked up the stairs to the room and yawned as I opened the door…only to find out it was occupied by the Fledgling from the theater.

"Aw, hell," I muttered. She heard and turned towards me. Her eyes widened, but her hand moved to a .38 tucked in her pants.

"Hey, easy now, sweetie. I just need a place to hole up for the day, get it? I'm too damn tired to start anything."

She eyed me warily, but dropped her hand. I sighed with relief; I wasn't afraid of the peashooter, but it was loud. Cops would undoubtedly be on patrol all over Los Angeles. No attention is good attention.

"So what's your handle, sweetheart?"

"…Liz Martindale," she said almost unwillingly.

"I'm Gabe Black. You've met Jack, right?"

"Yeah." She paused, then said, "Cool guy."

"Damn straight. And he's one of the few Kindred out there who won't straight up bullshit ya. That's an honorable trait these days, darlin'."

"How so?"

"It's all politics, half-truths, and straight-out lies, hon. Any vampire you meet will try to fuck you in one way or another."

"So how about you?"

"Me?" I laughed. "Shit, darlin', after the sun goes down and I find my Sire, I'll be long gone. I get tired of the bullshit and politics."

"And how do I know that's not a lie, huh? How do I know you're not some Sabaat or the Prince's errand boy sent to finish the job?"

I frowned and slipped a cigarette from my pocket. I lit it and took a drag, blowing smoke out of my nose. I gave her a hard stare and said, "I'm Gangrel, sweetie-pie. If I wanted to kill you, trust me, you'd be ash right now. My clan is…direct."

"Bullshit."

She didn't see me move. She didn't see anything until I was right behind her with both my blades against her soft neck. She gasped. I moved my knives with her movements, as not to accidently nick her.

"I don't bluff, darlin'. Get that in your head right now, or else we're gonna have one hell of a day."

"Shit. Oh shit. Ok, ok," she said quickly.

"Excellent." I lowered my knifes, sheathed them, then plopped down on the bed.

"Whoa, hey. What are you doing?"

"Resting up. You should do the same; I imagine you've got a big night ahead of you tomorrow."

"But…you're in my bed."

"There's room for two, Lizzie-girl." I chuckled. "No need to worry about making a move on ya, hon. Male Kindred are forever impotent."

She didn't say anything, but slipped down beside me, not quite touching. She was tense, her muscles locked.

"By the way," I said. "What's your clan? Jack should've told you."

She didn't say anything for a while. Finally, she spoke. "The one you said."

"Hmm?"

"Gangrel."

"Huh. No shit, yeah?"

"Yeah. No shit."

"Interesting."

If she said anything after that, I didn't hear her. The sun was up and my body shut down for the day.

_End of Part II_


	3. Chapter 3

I came out of my trance earlier than usual. According to the weather report on TV, the sun was still setting. Liz was still in bed. Since I couldn't really do anything until that big ball of death went down, I stared at her. Lizzie-girl was maybe 5'6, 5'7, and looked like an athlete; a softball or basketball player. Her dark brown hair just touched her shoulders and her skin looked naturally pale. I noticed from last night that her eyes were light, sky blue. She wore a pair a dirty blue jeans, a white shirt, and a light denim jacket.

My inspection of the girl was interrupted by my Beast. He was hungry. I groaned in exasperation and checked the fridge. Thankfully, there were three full blood packs. I took one and squirted a mouthful of cold blood down my throat. I sipped on the blood pack until Liz finally snapped out of her torpor.

She got up slowly, holding her head as she stretched and popped her back. I took this as a hint that the sun was finally down. I walked back to the fridge and took out another blood pack and tossed it to Liz. She caught it and bit into the plastic sloppily; spewing blood across the dark carpet. I couldn't quite suppress my chuckle as I watched her.

"Bite off the top, hon, like a pixie stick."

Liz glared at me as she tried to suck up as much blood as possible.

I chuckled again, then took out my wallet. "C'mere, girl."

She walked over to me cautiously, like a stray dog approaching a human with food. I took 300 dollars from my wallet and handed it to her. "This should pay for my stay and the blood pack I drank. By the way, there's a Ghoul who sells blood at the bottom floor of the hospital across the street." I threw her a little wave. "Stay careful, hon," I said as I walked towards the door.

"Whoa, where are you going?" She asked while standing up.

"Like I said last night, I need to find my Sire. After that, I'm outta here."

"So, what should I do?"

I just shrugged. "If your Sire was still alive, I'd say stick with him. But LaCroix threw that option out of the window. So, I'd recommend finding some friends, or at least some allies. Hell, technically you're a Cammie, so I'm sure a few of them would be willing to help."

"Well," she said, hesitating slightly between words. "What about you?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I consider you an ally?"

I burst out laughing. "Hell, why not?"

I took out a small notebook and pen from my coat pocket and jotted down my cell phone number. I ripped out the page and handed it to her. "You give me a ring if you hear I'm in L.A. I'll drop by and teach you a thing or two."

"Alright, deal." She reached out and shook my hand. "It's been interesting, Gabe."

"That it has, Lizzie-girl. I'll catch you later."

And with that, I left the apartment building and walked on the streets of Santa Monica towards the parking complex, where Alex's car was in storage. I walked to the second floor and saw the car underneath a brown tarp. I took it off and revealed the 1959 black hardtop Caddy Coup De Ville, Alex's pride and joy. It was a beaut; shiny black with chrome lining. Gorgeous.

I unlocked the trunk and tossed the tarp inside. I then unlocked the door and slipped inside, relishing the scent of cool leather. I started it up and listened to it purr before I pulled out of the garage and back into the streets.

I drove to Downtown L.A., to Prince LaCroix building. I wanted some answers and he was the only one I could talk to.

---

I parked outside the building. I climbed outside the car and locked the door. I walked inside the building, noticing the magnetic locks on the front door. Behind the front desk was a tall, well built Kine. He noticed my entrance immediately.

"Can I help you sir?"

"I need to see Mr. LaCroix, please."

"Do you have a meeting?"

"Afraid not, but this is a matter of some importance."

I could understand why he looked skeptic; I was wearing dark jeans, a shirt I stole out of a Buckle store, and a large, thick-cotton, dark grey trench coat.

"Hmm…sir, I'm afraid that you don't have a meeting, I can't let you up," he said while shifting his weight in his chair, no doubt loosening the gun in his holster.

"Well, slick, it's like this," I said as I leaned on the desk. "I'm getting to his office one way or another, and there ain't a damn thing you can do to stop me. So why don't you just open the elevator, I'll continue with my business and leave, and we'll never see each other again? How's that?"

I moved out of the way of the bullet and jumped over the desk with my foot high in the air. It caught the guy in the chest and I heard his ribs break. He gasped and fell back in his chair, the Colt Python falling out of his hands.

"Uh. Fuck. Oh shit…fuck this job, I quit."

"Yeah, I kinda agree with ya, slick. If you start coughing up blood, it's because of your ribs punctured a lung…I'd get that checked out if I were you," I said as I reached underneath the desk and pressed the call elevator button.

I left the guard and entered the elevator, where it took me to the penthouse level. I exited and walked into LaCroix's office with a frown on my face and a hand on my knife. He was behind his desk going over some papers. The Sheriff stood right beside him.

"LaCroix!" I yelled. "I need to ask you a few questions."

Instead of looking up surprise or fear, like I had expected, he stared at me with what looked like grief. "Ah…Mr. Black. You don't know, do you?"

I felt my dead heart shrink with dread. "What are you talking about?" I growled.

"After Ms. Veri and I finished our business, the Sabaat, as I'm sure you know, began their futile attack. I'm afraid to say that, after defeating many herself, one of those devilish creatures struck her from behind. It wasn't long before many others joined the first, and they eventually…" He broke eye-contact. "I'm sorry, Gabriel."

I couldn't speak. I just stood there looking at nothing. Finally, I manage to say, "Were they killed?"

"All but three. They escaped to the streets, among the Kine populace," he sighed. "Again, I'm very sorry, Gabriel; we all knew how close you were. The Camarilla will open its arms to you, if you'd like; we have plenty of lodging space if you'd like to stay for a few nights."

"No thanks. I'll…I'll fine some place. By the way…your front desk guard is quitting."

With that, I left the office and rode the elevator back down to the ground floor. I walked outside the building and back into the car, where I sat for a long time. I didn't think. I didn't breathe, I didn't do anything. I just sat.

Finally, I started the car and drove. Just drove. I didn't care where. I didn't stop until 3 in the morning, where I found myself outside a 24-hour liquor store. I got outside the car, walked in the store, and stole three bottles of Jack. The lady at the register yelled at me, but I barely heard her. I got back in Alex's- _my_ car, and drove as I chugged down one of the bottles. I knew what would happen as soon as the stuff hit my stomach, and I wanted to keep the car clean, so I parked it in the first lot I saw and got back out.

I was downing the second bottle before I finally threw up. A mix of Jack Daniels and my own blood came hurling out of my mouth. After I was finished, I felt a hell of a lot weaker. Meh, didn't care. I finished the second bottle, then managed to open the third before I puked again, loosing even more blood. Through my grief, I could feel my Beast snapping and snarling, slowly pulling his chain free.

Before I could drink from the third bottle and vomit out the rest of my reservoir of blood, I felt two pairs of strong hands grab my arms and legs. I was too weak to resist as they carried me into a building where loud techno music blared through speakers. Unfortunately for those carrying me, I felt my Beast finally break free of his chains.

My vision went red as blood flooded my eyes. I lashed out, my hands transforming into claws, and new found strength filled my body. I slashed one of the guys, the cut running from his chest to his belly. He grunted and dropped me as I kicked my way out of the second's hands. Before I could do anything more, however, another man slammed me into a wall while the other two rushed to hold me against it. I kicked and struggled and roared, but I couldn't get free.

I felt something against my mouth and I bit deep into it, tasting some of the most delicious blood I've ever had. I sucked it dry and felt fully restored, all the blood I tossed out on the parking lot replaced by a few drops of this…ambrosia.

My Beast, now sedated by the tasty stuff, slept. I drooped in the arms of those holding me, my body strained by the exertion of my Frenzy. I managed to open my eyes to none other than Velvet Velour holding an empty bag of blood. "How ya doin', Velvet?" I slurred.

"Oh, darling, what have you done to yourself? And call me V.V., I've told you that a thousand times," she said. Her face was covered in worry.

Through my foggy mind, I recalled helping out Velvet during my last visit in L.A.; some of her girls were being killed, slaughtered in their own homes. I found the guy and set him straight. I think his remains are still floating around a sewer somewhere.

"Damn…what was that stuff, Velvet?" I asked as I tried to stand on my own.

"Elder Vitae; very rich, but very, _very_ expensive." She smiled. "You own me about half a grand, darling."

I laughed and coughed up a little blood. Velvet nodded to the big men, who I now recognized as her Brujah bouncers, and they let me go. I wobbled a bit, but regained my balance. Velvet gave me a hard stare.

"Now, mind telling me what you where thinking, Gabe?"

"Alex…is gone, sugar," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Velvet covered her mouth with her hand as she gasped. "What- what happened?"

"Those…those Sabaat fuckers from last night. The Prince just told me."

I leaned back on the wall and let myself drop in a sitting position on the floor. I couldn't help but scan my surroundings and I noticed we were in Velvet's office, in the back of the club. I looked back at Velvet and I noticed her furrowed brow.

She said, "The Prince told you this? How do you know he wasn't lying?"

At the time, I didn't even consider that, but I said, "Why would he? Alex and I are Independent, and we're hardly ever in L.A.; I just don't see any reason why he would."

"You know, I heard them talking right before I left. Alex was asking for permission for that Fledgling to accompany you two."

That jerked me. "What!?"

Velvet nodded. "Yes, that's what I heard. LaCroix didn't look very happy about the idea. "

This put a new perspective on things; I could feel the old detective cogs in me turning. "Did you hear anything else?" I asked almost automatically.

"I'm afraid not, Gabe. Those meetings are stuffy and I was in a rush to get out of there."

I stood back up and brushed off my coat. I took out a cigarette and lit it. "Alright. Thanks anyway, Velvet."

"V.V., darling."

---

My mind raced as I drove. I barely noticed when it started to rain. I decided that the only way I could find out what really happened would be to question one of the Sabaat. I remembered seeing three of them escaping from the battle that night, I remember one of their faces. LaCroix said three Sabaat managed to get away; maybe these were the three.

The alarm on my phone jerked me away from my thoughts. Half-hour till sunrise. Shit. Sorry Lizzie-girl, looks like I'm bunking with you again tonight.

_End of Part III_


	4. Chapter 4

"What the hell!?" She shouted at me. "You said you'd be gone by today! And now you're telling me you need to stay here!? Again!?"

"Look, it's a long story and I don't want to tell it in a hallway. Just let me in."

She snarled, but opened the door and stood aside. I walked inside and plopped on the bed, tired and lonely. I missed her; my reason for living this undead existence. I remembered her smell, her eyes, the way she walked and moved; I couldn't help it when tears of blood streamed down my face.

I heard Liz gasp when she noticed. There was an awkward silence. Finally, she said, "Um, you alright?"

"No, Lizzie-girl, I am not. Someone killed Alex, my Sire. I loved her." I chuckled bitterly. "I guess we're more alike than I first thought; Gangrel, Sire-less; too bad you're Camarilla, or else we could start a folk music duo of epic proportion."

She looked a little appalled when I started laughing. Maybe it was the bloody tears that set her off. Who knows, women are strange. But she sat down next to me and put her arm around my shoulders, a gesture I considered strange for her during our short time together.

"Oh, trying to take advantage of me now that I'm hurt and vulnerable?" I joked.

"Shut up and lean into me."

I complied. I rested my head on her shoulder and cried for a long time, well into the morning. By the time I finally stopped, Liz's shirt was more or less ruined. But she still held me, and I went into torpor in her arms as the sun rose high.

---

I woke up to the sound of running water. I stood up from the bed and stretched my muscles, making sure they weren't cramped. I noticed the bathroom door was closed and I figured Lizzie-girl was taking a shower. I looked at my cell phone and was amazed to see it was almost 10 o'clock. I never 'slept in' this late. I must've been in worse shape than I thought. I turned on the TV and watched the news as I wondered if I should leave or not. I decided pretty quickly not to; Liz did a very decent thing last night. You can't find that in most Kindred these days.

I noticed a mirror on the wall and decided to tidy myself up a little. I stared at my reflection; a slightly thin, lean face covered in black stubble and a goatee that matched Nines Rodriguez's, dark eyes, and long black hair. My shirt was covered in blood stains, although I was thankful my coat was spared from the stuff. I looked like shit; I needed a shower. Without thinking, I took off my coat and dirty shirt. Thankfully, before I could strip completely, the TV caught my ear:

"…And in local news, a liquor store in southern Hollywood was robbed last night by, according to the only witness, Rachel Gomez, who worked at the cash register of the store, 'a man around six-foot-five, wearing a dark grey trench coat and long black hair'. Ms. Gomez also stated that the man simply walked into the store with a, quote, 'dead look in his eyes', stole three bottles of Jack Daniels, and walked out. In other news, a gang shooting occurred in the downtown area, heavily concentrated around the popular Nocturne Theater…"

I grimaced; I would have to shave and probably cut my hair to avoid suspicion. Damn it. I acted like an idiot.

I was so wrapped up in what a fool I'd been, I didn't notice the halt of water in the bathroom. I continued to watch the coverage of the fight until the door opened and Liz walked out wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around her. I was a little taken back, and so was she apparently when she noticed that my shirt was off.

"Uh, hey there…"

"…hello…"

"So…your shirt's off…"

"Yeah, I was- I was gonna take a shower…you're kinda naked."

"Uh-huh…I just got out and I forgot to bring my clothes…in the bathroom."

There was an overly awkward silence.

"Well…I'm just gonna mosey on in there…"

"Yeah! Yeah, sure! I'll just change in here."

"Oookay."

"Yeah…"

We both moved aside at the same time, then again, and again before we got out of each other's way. I rushed into the bathroom and she did likewise with the small living space. I shut and locked the door behind me, my breath rushing out of my lungs in a relieved sigh. Through the door, I heard Lizzie-girl copy me. I chuckled as I stripped and turned on the water. I didn't get in until the water began to steam. I let my nerves dull as the almost boiling water pour over me. It was relaxing sensation after what had happened.

I showered for about fifteen minutes, then got out and dried myself off. Before I redressed, I decided to go ahead and shave. I found a can of shaving cream in the medicine cabinet, but no razor for some odd reason. I shrugged and took out my knife. Then I got to work. Five minutes and about twelve cuts later, I was smooth as silk. I out on my jeans and shoes, but left my shirt off; it was ruined. I walked back into the living space. I was glad to see that Liz was dressed and brushing her damp hair. She turned to me and smiled sheepishly.

"Still shirtless I see. Hey, did you shave?"

"Yep," I said as I walked over to my coat and took a cigarette out of the pocket.

"Care to say why?"

"I acted like a moron last night, that's why. I brought too much attention on myself."

She looked confused, so I told her what happened in detail. Her eyes were wide. "You tried to commit suicide!?"

"That doesn't matter."

"Then what does!?"

"I was mentioned on the boob-tube, sweetie. That's a huge no-no. I need to lay low for a while till the heat blows over," I said as I blew smoke through my nose. "Which is why I need to ask you a favor."

"Let's hear it and we'll see."

I grinned. "You're learning quick, Lizzie-girl. Alright, I need a new shirt; that one's covered in puked up blood and Jack, not a great combination for subtlety. And walking around shirtless while the law's out and about isn't an exactly wonderful option either. Now, as a reward for this little task, you can pick yourself out something pretty, deal?"

She gave me a hard look, but a grin spread across her face. "Ok, deal. Anything specific?"

"100 cotton, it breathes _so_ well."

---

Liz got back a few hours later. I was happy to see her; normally, Gangrel are perfectly happy with being alone, but Alex's death haunted me, and I was glad to see another face. She was carrying a bag, a wrapped up piece of clothing on a hanger, and a brown paper sack. I raised my eyebrows.

"Me-oh-my, what's this?"

She tossed me the bag; it was full of ten-dollar shirts, every one of them having a weird little saying or sexual innuendo. Kids today. Meh.

"Don't put on one of those, they're just for emergency," Liz said as she unzipped the cover on the hanger. She took out a long, black suit jacket, a crisp, white button-up shirt, a wrinkle-free pair of black pants, and a silky, black tie.

"Well? Don't keep me waiting, try it on."

I smiled as I put on the nice clothes.

"No, don't tuck it in, that's not in style. Jeeze, what are you, forty?"

"Eighty-three, actually, "I said as I straighten my tie. "Ya see, it's this diet of mine; works miracles on wrinkles. "

"Hilarious. You're a barrel full of giggles. Now step back and let me look at you."

I complied as she looked me over. She grinned. "You look like a tall Constantine. Neat."

"That Keanu Reeves flick? Never saw it."

"Why not?"

"I get enough of that 'supernatural' shit every day. Give me a good comedy any day of the week. So what's in the bag?"

She grinned wickedly. "My something pretty."

She took out a .50 caliber semi-automatic and a box of bullets from the bag. I stared at it. "…I was expecting a necklace or a pair of earrings."

"Psh. So what are you going to do now?"

I kept the grin on my face, but my eyes grew cold. "I'm gonna stay in L.A. until I find out who killed Alex. And I'm going to make that son of a bitch regret it. After that, who knows?"

She was quiet for a moment, then said, "You need a place to stay?"

"Aw, hell, kid; don't let me get in your way, I'm sure you've got a shit-list bigger than mine."

"Hey, look, you weren't kidding the other night when you said almost every vampire I meet would try to bullshit me. I had an eventual night since you were last here. I was shot at, stabbed, and clubbed with a baseball bat. I also killed maybe half a dozen people." She sighed. "I've…I've never done that kind of stuff before, Gabe. Before all this, I went to school and played basketball. That's about it. I've never held a gun before, I've never had to learn how to block a knife stroke…I've never had to kill. I could use some help, and I'll let you stay here if you give me a hand."

While she had been talking, I pulled out a cigarette from my pocket. I lit it as I said, "What kind of help do you have in mind?"

She crossed her arms and said, "I need someone to show me the ropes, I guess. And to help me get adjusted. I bare terms…I need a Sire, and I was hoping…"

"That I would take your old Sire's place," I finished for her. I sat back down on the bed. "Darlin', this is a pretty big thing to ask. But you did an incredible thing for me last night, so yeah, you got a deal."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Not a whole lot of Kindred would've held me like that; Alex is the only one that comes to mind."

"I'm sorry about what happened to her."

I waved my hand. "Don't worry about it. "

We were silent for a moment until I said, "So, what do you want to know?"

"Well, tell me about yourself."

"Hmm?"

"If you're going to be my teacher, I'd like to know a little more about you."

"Heh, want my life story, eh? Alright, sure."

I took another deep drag and started:

"I was born in 1924 and Embraced in 1953. Before I Embraced, I was a homicide detective in Memphis, Tennessee."

"You're southern?"

"Yep. Born and raised in Mississippi, worked in Memphis." I scratched my face idly and continued:

"I first met Alex while I was waiting for a contact in a blues club. Real nice place; great music and even better food. I think it's still around, actually. I saw her at the bar sitting by herself and watching the musicians. As soon as I laid my eyes on her, I was enthralled. I walked over to talk to her for three hours." I laughed. "I missed my contact. Probably would've lost my job because of that now that I think of it. Anywho, we went back to her place and she Embraced me with my consent."

I ashed my cigarette and said, "I loved unlife as a Kindred. My human life was lonely and stressful and depressing. There's so much more freedom like this. And I guess it was easier for me to adjust with Alex by my side. After that, there's not much more to tell; we were Independent from the factions, so we were mostly left alone. We did the occasional odd job for those who could pay. I grew strong. That's mostly it, sweetie, unless you'd like to know I love Jimi Hendrix, Frank Sinatra, long walks in the woods, and I think reality TV will eventually cause Armageddon to occur early."

She chuckled at that and I smiled. "So, Lizzie-girl, how bout you?"

"Ohh, my turn, huh?"

"Yep, fair's fair."

She smiled again and said, "Oh, ok. I lived in Arizona until I started college here, about five years ago. I'm 23, by the way. I was a psychology major and going for my PhD, and I played basketball. I like to ski, reading, and a good movie."

I clapped my hands together. "Excellent. Now, let's go for a ride; I'm starting to get cabin fever. I'll tell you more about Kindred while I drive."

She raised her eyebrows. "You have a car?"

"Yep."

She growled. "I had to take a cab to get those clothes and my gun. The guy drove like a fucking maniac."

_End of Part IV_


	5. Chapter 5

Before I begin Part V of Beasts, I'd like to thank my first reviewer, sympa, for...reviewing. Anywho, thanks for the review (I hope there are many more to come) and enjoy the chapter!

* * *

"Oh my god, that's _your _car!? Holy shit!"

We were outside the apartment, standing in the parking lot next to…my Caddy.

"It was Alex's before she died, but I guess it's mine now."

"It's_ gorgeous_."

"Well don't just stand there and oogle at it, get inside."

We both stepped inside the car and Liz marveled at its well-kept condition. I threw it in reverse, backed out into the highway, tossed in drive, then pushed the accelerator to the floor and squealed out. I knew Lizzie enjoyed it. As we encountered more traffic, I slowed down to a moderate speed and began talking to Liz:

"First thing you should know about is your clan. As I've said before, we're both Gangrel. Our clan is more animalistic than any other, but we're also the most trustworthy and honorable. In general, we prefer to fight with our hands and claws, simply because it's harder to take them away than a gun or a sword."

I turned randomly off the highway and continued speaking. "Now, most other clans usually look down on us as savages and animals. This can be true, but only in the most stereotypical circumstances."

"Tell me about the other clans."

"Sure. Uh, let's see here. Lemme tell you the one's we can trust the most first. Brujah are alright in my book, even if they can get a little rowdy. Nosferatu sympathize with us because the prettier clans look down on both us. But be careful around them, don't give 'em too much info; you wouldn't want to get trapped in their webs. Malkavians…they're different. I've never known a Malkavian to hold a prejudice against another clan, but that doesn't mean they don't. If you can wade your way through all the bullshit, I guess they can be alright, although they'd never be first on my list as a…stable companion. Toreador are odd, cause you can trust maybe half of 'em, the ones who aren't ridiculously stuck up with themselves. Now, I've never liked any Ventrue I've met. They're too dominating, and that doesn't stick well with most Gangrel, including myself. Tremere…you don't trust Tremere. Ever."

"Why not?"

"Bad blood between our clans, sugar. They experimented on our blood without consent. We've despised each other for centuries. A guy named Becket's the only Gangrel I've known to have any friendly contact with a Tremere. But then again, Becket doesn't usually follow the norms. Hell, you might meet him at the next Clan meeting; I heard it was going to be in L.A."

"Clan meeting? What are we, the KKK of the Vampire world?"

I chuckled. "Clan with a 'C', darlin'. A couple times a year, members of the Clan meet and socialize a bit. It's where sects are made and built upon, usually."

"And what are sects?"

"Smaller groups of Gangrel in the Clan usually related to each other by blood. Kinda like werewolf packs, cause they're arranged by hierarchy; first in the sect is the sect leader, second takes his or her place if he dies, so on and so forth. When Alex died, I automatically took her place as fourth in the sect."

I took a drag of my cigarette and flicked the ash out the window.

"Why do you smoke?" Liz asked suddenly. "I mean, it can't really do anything for you, right? Can you still feel any sorta buzz?"

I chuckled. "Naw. It's more of a habit than anything else. I was a chain-smoker in life; it would feel weird for me to not have a coffin-nail in between my fingers. Helps keep that mean ole Beast sedated." 

A thought ran across my mind. "You've been told about the Beast, right?"

"A little."

I growled softly. "Fucking LeCroix…" I muttered. "Sending you out into a completely different world without so much of a fucking_pamphlet_ on the basic shit you _need_ to know."

"Well, Jack told me what he could, but under the circumstances…"

I waved my hand at her. "Say no more, Lizzie-girl. I don't have a doubt in my mind that Smilin' Jack helped you out best he could. Hell, he probably did a better job than most would. But LeCroix could've…shit…he could've done so much more. Fucking jackass." 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her head droop slightly. "Hey, whassa matter?"

"It's just…this is different, you know? Do you really think I can survive this, Gabe?"

I blew a jet of smoke from my nose as I said, "Honestly, before I came along, I wouldn't have given you much of a chance. But I'm here to back you up, Lizzie-girl, and it takes a helluva lot of shit to kill me." I paused to take another drag. "You know, after I finish my business here in L.A., you can come with me if you want."

She perked up, her eyes locking on mine. "What? Go with you?"

"Yah. I'm an Independent, so as long as I follow etiquette of wherever I'm at, shit doesn't hit the fans. Well…it _usually_ doesn't hit the fan. You could drop your allegiance with the Camarilla and travel with me as an Independent."

"Well, where are you going?"

"Hmm…Chicago maybe. Or Maine. Somewhere cold."

"Cold?"

"I like the snow." 

A few hours later, around 2:00 AM, we arrived at an abandoned amusement park in West Hollywood. The entire trip over I tried to fill Liz's head with as much information about the world of Kindred as possible. I covered the eternal battle between the Beast and Humanity, the clans, the Sabaat, the Anarchs, the Camarilla, and every other little aspect of our world to the best of my ability. 

"Gabe, why are we here?" She asked as we stepped out of the car and jumped the chained fence into the park.

"Well, darlin', many a man have asked that question. Personally, I think it's-"

"As much as I'd _love_ to hear your philosophical points of view," she said with a grin, "I meant why are we at run-down amusement park?"

"Ah, well you should've been more specific, Lizzie-girl." I took out another cigarette and lit it as we walked deeper into the dark heart of the broken roller coasters and abandoned game booths. 

"I wanna see what you can do. Physically speaking. And if I find that you're lacking, I'll teach ya a couple things."

"Cool."

Finally, when we reached the center of the park, I said, "Pull out your gun, Liz. And not the .50 cal; use the .38."

She frowned like a child told by its parents to put away a new toy and pulled the .38 from behind her belt. I grinned and continued, "Hand-to-hand combat is always gonna be your first choice of combat, Lizzie-girl, but sometimes the situation demands for a good firearm and quick, accurate aim." 

I walked over to an old game booth and looked around until I found a pile of dusty, cracked plates. I picked up a stack and said, "Shoot 'em," then tossed a plate into the air.

Lizzie's eyes widened with surprise, but suddenly narrowed. She held the peashooter with two hands, like a pro, and raised it high in the air. She squeezed off a single shot and the plate shattered into a dozen pieces. I raised an eyebrow. 

"Never used a gun before, eh?" I asked.

Frankly, the girl looked just as surprised as I did. "Wow," she muttered.

What was the glint I saw in her eyes just before she fired off the shot, I wondered. It was something different; something I'd never seen before. I wanted to see it again. Without warning, I threw three plates into the air.

Her eyes flashed and the gun fired three times; all bulls-eyes. 

"Me-oh-my…" I drawled, "Damn, sugar. That's some _fine_ shooting for a rookie fresh from the womb. Even with that blood in your veins, that is some _fine-ass_ shooting."

"It was…weird," she said with a slight frown on her face. "Like almost something took me over, like some kind of instinct."

"Well don't suppress it, sug. Use that shit if it makes you shoot like an Olympic marksman."

I took out a cigarette and lit it. "Now, I see you're…heh…_competent_ with a firearm, let's switch to weapon combat," I said as I unsheathed and tossed her one of my knives. She caught it easily and looked it over.

"I've never seen one like this before."

"It's a Kukri. A Gurkha knife. It's Nepalese. Really good for hacking off limbs and cutting throats...really good for killing other Kindred," I said as I blew a stream of smoke from my nose.

She blanched from my words, but gripped the knife firmly. I smiled.

"Now, I'm going to go easy on you, Lizzie-girl-"

"Hey, c'mon, you can't go full-out?"

"Hell no. I'd slice you to pieces."

She looked skeptic.

"Remember how fast I moved when we first met, darlin'? You didn't even see me."

She scowled. "Fine. Do whatever."

"You make the first move, Lizzie-girl."

With that, she rushed at me with the knife low. She was quick, but I'd seen faster. I stepped aside and used her speed to my advantage by redirecting her overall force…in other words, I tripped her.

She fell to unkempt ground, but was up to her feet in a flash and slashed at me with my knife. Again, I sidestepped, but this time I nicked her arm with my blade. She hissed and jumped back, her eyes catching my every movement. I stepped forward and swung wildly. She ducked low and kicked out at me with her foot. I caught it with my free hand and pushed it away with enough force to spin her around. I took the opportunity to give her a swift kick in the back and she tumbled to the ground again.

"Too much undirected force, Liz. You can't control it. Take a breath, calm yourself down and feel me out. Watch where the force of my strikes come from; those are the points you want to hit first on a skilled opponent. Then go for the killing blow," I said as she rose slowly. When she turned around, I noticed that glint in her eye.

She came at me like the devil; twice as fast as before. Don't get me wrong, I was still far above her level, but she almost nicked me a time or two. Finally, I put a halt to the exercise.

"Enough. Jesus Christ, enough. You're something else, darlin'," I marveled. "Very good. Very damn good."

She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I just took your advice and let my instincts take over." She moved a few stray strands of her brown hair from her face. "Guess that's the way to go, huh?"

"Damn straight."

We spent the rest of the night practicing the finer points of hand-to-hand combat and I taught her a thing or two about her powers; she was a tad weak in Fortitude, but her Protean and Animalism were impressive for someone so green. We finally stopped for the night and walked back to car. 

Liz began twirling a lock of her hair and asked, "Soooo…how'd I do?"

"Color me impressed. Despite your lack of guidance, you're doing a helluva lot better than any other Fledgling I've ever met. Myself included. But don't let that go to your head; this city's full of very powerful Kindred. Don't go looking for a fight if you can't help it."

She acknowledged my warning, but walked with a skip in her step. I couldn't help but grin.

_End of Part V._


	6. Chapter 6

I'm gettin' a bunch of emails of people putting my story on alert...thanks for the confidence boost, guys; much appreciated.

* * *

I pulled the Caddy back into the Santa Monica parking garage and fitted the tarp tightly over it. Liz and I walked back to the apartment and chatted over personal interests…I think she may have convinced me that Muse was the greatest band in existence. We were almost halfway to the apartment building when my gut clinched. I noticed there were no people on the streets, not even the homeless were out. I stopped dead in my tracks and held my hand out for Liz to be silent.

Very slowly, I burned a little of my blood for Protean and my senses flared. I caught a strange scent in the air; one I hadn't smelled in a long time. By the time I recognized it, my eyes widened and I pushed Liz to the ground. An arrow pierced my shoulder and I grunted as I yanked it out. It healed quickly as I scanned the building tops. My heat vision caught a slight flare of heat; not enough for a Kine, but enough for a Kindred. I growled the word, "Assamite."

"What?" Liz asked, her own eyes trying to find my target.

"Get in the sewer and hide. If you don't see me within the next ten minutes, head to Hollywood and talk to the Anarch named Isaac. Tell him Gabriel sent you and you need protection; he owes me a favor, so he should take you in. After you lie low for a couple weeks, get the hell out of L.A."

"Wait, what's going-"

"NOW, DAMN IT!!"

She didn't anymore any more encouragement. Liz ran to the nearest manhole and dropped down into the sewers below. Meanwhile, I kept my eyes on the assassin as he dropped from the building and approached me slowly.

He was shorter than me, maybe an even 6'0, and dark cloth draped his body. His face was a deep shade of dark grey, almost black. I growled again; this guy wasn't cheap, he was experienced.

He walked towards me, slowly but also confidently. He said with a slight Arabic accent, "My name is Aazim Samani, warrior-assassin of the noble Assamite. The female is my target; leave, Gabriel Black, and I will not kill you."

"Can't do that, slick," I snarled. "I already told her I'd stick around. And I ain't one to break promises. That ain't honorable."

The Assamite seemed to ponder the situation, then nodded his head slightly. "You are correct. It is better to die honorably than to live in shame. Very well," he said as he bowed.

I stopped snarling and bowed as well. Despite the fact that the fucker wanted to kill Liz, at least he was polite about it.

"Shall we begin?" He asked.

"One second, if you will."

"It is brave of you to stand against me. Prepare yourself."

I took off my tie, my jacket, my shirt, and my shoes.

"Make your move."

Samani nodded again and drew a katana from the inside of his clothes. He nicked his finger and let his blood run down the blade. I grimaced; Assamite blood was poisonous. I realized that I had to go full-out on this guy.

I snarled as I dived into Protean and my Beast howled in ecstasy as I began to transform. Each Gangrel's transformed state is different; some take the aspects of bats, or bears, or cats. My sect, my blood, made me wolf-like.

My skin itched as fur erupted from it. My mouth and nose transformed into a muzzle full of razor sharp teeth. My hands grew into large, vicious claws. My senses exploded; I smelled salt water and bird shit from the beach, my eyes watched Samani's blood run through his veins, and I could hear the Ghoul who sold blood in the hospital masturbate in the bathroom down the hall of his office…it was an unpleasant experience…he grunts a lot.

I roared at the assassin as he looked at me with black eyes, and we met claw to sword in the middle of the wet empty street.

Sparks flew off the Assamite's sword as I blocked his blow. I lashed out with my other claw and caught his shoulder. My claws dug deep into him, and I hurled him across the street and into a brick wall. Dust flew off the old bricks as his body connected and I heard him grunt with pain. I rushed over, trying to finish this quick, but he was already up. The sword flashed and my face erupted in pain. Blood poured into my eye; the wound wouldn't heal because of his blood. I growled and moved quick enough slash his chest twice, but his sword caught my arm and it bled freely.

I jumped back and forced myself to slow down and think. His wounds were already healing while mine were bleeding like a damn Kine's. I'd have to get that fucking sword away from him if I wanted to win this thing. _Shit._

My eyes glowed silver as I summoned a spectral wolf from behind the assassin. It took him by surprise as it sunk its massive jaws into his neck and took him to the floor. I darted forward on all fours and bit off his sword arm. He screamed as acidic blood sprayed my face and body, burning my fur and eyes, but I disabled the motherfucker. I spat out the blood in my mouth to keep my tongue from sizzling, then proceeded to dig my claws into his back while my wolf worked on his neck. By the time we finished, there wasn't much left of ole' Aazim and my claws were a damn mess. As his ashes blew into the wind, my wolf howled a farewell and disappeared into the night.

I took a deep shuttering breath, then slowly transformed back. I fell to my knees afterwards; my body was covered in deep red blisters and burns, and the cuts across my face and arm were still bleeding. I groaned as I forced myself up and I staggered to the manhole. My hands protested and bled as I gripped the dirty cover and lifted. I could feel my Beast begin to anger over the amount of blood I'd lost. I was rightly pissed as well.

When I finally got the damn thing out of the way, I called, "Liz! Coast's clear! Come on out!"

"Wonderful," she replied, her voice echoing in the dark. "I wasn't getting tired of the scenery at all. In fact, I was hoping I could somehow…I don't know, _capture_, the incredible _aroma_ of this wonderful sewer into a candle, so I could burn it in the apartment. I mean, we could smell like damp _shit_ all day and all night."

"As much as I'd hate to tear you from it…"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming, old man."

My body decided to lie down on the cool pavement and I was too tired to argue. I heard Liz climb up the ladder and out of the sewers. I heard her gasp as she spotted the condition I was in.

"Gabe! Oh my God! What happened?"

"Someone sent a fuckin' Assamite after ya, darlin'. He's what happened. Now go get the car; I got a feeling Santa Monica ain't safe no more."

I tossed her the keys, but she stood still. "But we could go to Mercurio's place. He's a cool guy, Gabe, I helped him out the other day and he owes me a favor. I mean its right-"

"Mercurio _is_ a cool guy, darlin', but he works for the Prince, and I ain't in a trusting mood tonight. Get the car."

Her blue eyes were wide with concern, but she ran towards the garage…I decided to stay on the ground. I grunted as I reached into my pants pocket to fish out my cigarettes and lighter. Despite the pain, I felt that it was worth it; a nice, warm, soothing coffin-nail sounded just about right.

Fucking pack was empty. I made a mental note for Liz to stop by a gas-station on the way to Hollywood. But as I made my plans, I decided that I'd save Isaac's favor for another day. Fuck Hollywood; we're going Downtown.


	7. Chapter 7

This one took a little bit of time to write...blame Stephen King, his damn Duma Key has wrapped me up. Anywho...Part VII.

* * *

"What kind?"

"Nails. Red and white colored pack. Uh…get the lights, I guess."

"Fine."

"You sound pissed."

"You _insisted_ that I stop and buy you a pack of cigarettes while you're bleeding to death."

"...it only sounds bad when you say it."

"Gabe."

"Yes, darlin'?"

"You're an idiot."

"Yes, darlin'."

Liz stepped out of the car with a steely look in her eyes. Yeah, she was pissed. I stretched out my legs with a moan as I tried my best to relax in the back seat. Blood ran into my eye and I wiped it off. Damn wounds were still open. I unsheathed one of my knives and held it up to the light to see my reflection. The cut was nasty; a diagonal red line slicing through forehead, eyebrow, and even my cheek. I was damn lucky the fucker didn't get my eye; sometimes the blood of Assamites leave scars. I growled and cut off a length of cloth from my pants and tied it around the wound as best I could. I spotted Liz walking out of the store with a pack of Nails and a box of Band-Aids…bless her heart. She was still scowling, though.

She opened the driver's side door, climbed in the car, and tossed both boxes into the back seat more or less directed at my head.

"Hell hath no wrath like a woman's scorn…" I muttered.

"Hmm?"

"Oh nothing. Just grunting in pain."

"Good."

I tried to hide my smile by covering my mouth with a fresh cig. I lit it and inhaled the sucker. Delicious.

She cranked the engine and pulled the car back onto the highway. I gave her directions that led us Downtown. Finally, I told her to park in front of a small, dingy building with neon sign in the window; it said: 'K-95, The Night', in bright green. On the roof was a large radio antenna. I noticed Liz taking all this in…her hands were tightening on the wheel.

"So…a radio station, huh?" She said through gritted teeth.

"Don't have a conniption. I'll have you know I have a very reliable friend and source who's located here."

"Is your source a late night radio DJ?"

"...maybe."

"Good Lord, Gabe."

"Calm down, sugar," I said as I tried to place a band-aid on the cut on my arm. I snorted with exasperation; the cut was too wide.

"How do you expect me to calm down?!" She said, waving her pale arms around, her hands clenched with anger. "Look at you! You're a fucking _mess_ and we're at a radio station! A goddamn _radio station_!"

"You shouldn't use the Lord's name in vain, sweet-heart."

If looks could kill…

--

Liz helped me out of the car and into the station. The door was locked, deadbolt and all, but the girl had talent with a pick. The light in the front office was dim, but our eyes had no trouble picking out the details of the room; it was small, with green carpet and wood-paneled walls. Plants and posters of rock legends decorated every free surface. Speakers built into the walls were softy playing the station itself:

"Hello L.A., you're up way past your bedtime, aren't you? Hope you've slipped into something comfortable, I know I have. If you're new to town, or just new to this radio thing, you're listening to 'The Deb of Night', the only girl who'll spend the night with you and leave first thing in the morning, guaranteed…"

"Sound's lovely," Liz muttered.

"Just wait," I grinned.

Deb's voice continued to fill our ears like silky smoke. The girl had pipes. I directed Liz to the back of the station, where Deb herself was working the sound room. The room was visible through a large pane of glass, and we saw the infamous Deb of Night sitting behind her sound board with a wine glass in her hand and a pair of 'phones on her head. She was talking with some nutty motherfucker – going on about conspiracies and whatnot – when she noticed us…or more like a very bleeding and bare-chested Gabriel Black through the glass.

Her eyes widened slightly, but she said through the microphone on the soundboard:

"Thank you, Gomez. And that concludes the news portion of the show. Well, this girl's gotta pay her bills, so it's time for a few commercials. But don't go anywhere, I'm just getting warmed up…or should I say…hot."

With that, she punched a couple of buttons on the board, then spun her chair around and motioned us to enter. Liz opened the door with her free hand (the other holding me up) and we walked in.

I always seem to lose a little bit of breath when I see Deb, and even more when I hear her talk. The only word that can describe her looks would be…hell…'breathtaking'. She had her long, dark hair tied into a ponytail, her dark, Italian skin was wrapped up in a plain black shirt and jeans, and the wire-framed glasses perched on her face added a touch of sophistication along with beauty. She stared at me with dark brown eyes and said, "Alright, Gabe, what brings you to my little corner of the woods? Besides the obvious, of course."

"I'm assuming the obvious being me covered in blood?"

"When has it not, babe?"

I chuckled. Deb nodded towards Liz and said, "Ah, I see the rumors are true. I must say, I didn't quite expect you to take in a Fledging, Gabriel. Especially one that LaCroix is interested in."

That perked my ears in a hurry. "Eh? What's this about the Prince?"

"Just a minute, Gabe. We may know each other, but Ms. Fledgling and I have yet to make proper introductions." Deb stood and took Liz's hand in her's. "Deborah Vanelli of the Toreador. Deb to my friends and Deb of Night to my listeners. Since you're with Mr. Black, I believe you can call me Deb."

Liz nodded and smiled. She said, "Liz Martindale of the Gangrel. Aka…The Fledgling who everyone is interested in, I guess."

"Wonderful," I interrupted. "Now that's done and everyone's happier than a fat family at a Vegas, two-dollar buffet, what's this shit about the Prince?"

"Just what I said; all my late night contacts have informed me that Prince LaCroix is keeping a very close eye on your girl here. As for why…beats me," Deb said as she sat back down on her chair. She took a sip of her wineglass and I suddenly noticed how hungry I'd become. Hell, fuck hungry; _ravished._

"Deb, sweetie-pie, you wouldn't happen to have a blood pack on you would ya?"

"From the looks of it, you could use one, but let me take a look at those cuts first."

Deb turned her chair back around to the board and slipped the headphones back on. She punched a button and said through the mike, "Hello again, my fellow night-owls. The Deb of Night is back, but only for a short while, I'm afraid. Technical difficulties pause for no one, not even Deb. So sit tight, listen to some good music, and let this girl sort things out. And don't worry, I'll be back soon…promise."

She punched a few more buttons and the Foo Fighter's 'Everlong' began playing through the speakers. "Approve?" She asked with her eyebrows raised at Liz.

"Oh yeah. Dave Grohl's awesome."

Deb smiled wide, the points of her fangs making small indentions on her lower lip. "I thought I had you pegged as a rocker-chick. Happy to know I haven't lost my touch." She took off her headphones, rose from her chair, and walked towards me. "Alright, Gabe, let's have a look."

I grunted in agreement, my eyes still on the wineglass full of blood, and sat down on a chair next to the wall. Deb reached in her pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. The smoke distracted me from the blood, and I took out one of my own and followed suit. The air in the small room soon became filled with light blue smoke and it reminded me of days in the office in Memphis, back when everybody smoked everywhere. Good times. Not healthy times, but damn good times.

Deb removed the cloth I had wrapped around my head to take a good look at the cut. "Hmm," she muttered, "Wounds that won't heal…blisters around your hands, chest, and neck…Gabriel, did you fight an Assamite?"

"Nail on the head, sweetie."

"Then you're lucky you got off this light," she said as she ashed her cigarette.

"Light?" asked Liz. "Look at him, he's a mess."

"Assamites can do much worse, Ms. Martindale. Much, much worse." She took a deep drag and exhaled like a dragon. "Ok, the burns will heal on their own as soon as you get some blood in you, babe, but I'll have to treat the cuts." She pointed her cigarette at Liz and said, "Do me a favor, darling, and go in the back. There should be a light green mini-fridge with a padlock on it. The combination is, 'nine, two, five, and three'. There should be some blood packs in there, and I need you to get every single one, if that's alright."

Lizzie-girl nodded and left the room without so much as a fuss. Fuckin' blew my mind.

"How did you do that?" I asked.

"Hmm?"

"She throws a fuckin' tantrum when I ask her to turn down the radio, but you got her doin' chores with a smile on her face."

"Your accent's slipping, babe."

"It comes out strong when I'm in pain or astonished. This is a two-fer-one, darlin'."

She let out a warm chuckle that was smooth as velvet.

"Well, I could say you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, but I don't think that's the case here, Gabriel Black. Your little Gangrel-girl has what the all the hip teenagers call, 'a thing' for you. She likes you, babe, and not in the friend way."

"Um…what?"

"It makes sense, you know. She's playing hard to get, that's why she's tough with you, but I saw the looks she's been giving you while she didn't think anyone was watching." She smiled wide. "An ex-detective and now-vampire couldn't figure out a college girl's attracted to him. There's a certain irony to that, I believe."

Did I say I was blown away before? Now I'm past the fuckin' _moon_.

_End of Part VII_


	8. Chapter 8

Alrighty, finally had some free time to finish up the chapter. Muchas gracias for being patient with me.

* * *

It took Deb about two hours to patch me up. She took a sample of the Assamite's blood (I was still covered in the damn stuff) and put it in a beaker she had Liz take from the fridge after she had brought in the blood-packs. She then filled the beaker with bright blue liquid that turned green on contact with the blood. She smiled after that, her fangs glinting in the light. She selected a specific blood-pack from the dozen Liz gathered from her, reached in her purse and took out hypodermic needle, then inserted it into the blood-pack and filled it full.

She injected me around the wounds (two fucking _hours_) and they slowly began to close. Liz watched the whole time with a frown on her face.

"How's that working?" She asked.

"How much do you know about chemistry, Liz?" Deb replied.

"I took a course or two."

"Then you know about bases and acids, correct?"

"Yep."

"This is more or less the same thing. Assamite blood works in almost an acidic nature, therefore you need a base to counteract it. But there's a problem isn't there? It's _blood_. How does one counteract blood? Why it's simple if you think about it; the opposite blood type. Dab a little here and there-"

"Dab my ass," I muttered.

Deb ignored me completely. "- and ta-da: everything's right as rain again."

"Now all I need's a juicy Kine and about a forty hour nap. Hoddy-toddy," I said with a little bit irritability. I was still a little shocked at Deb's declaration…and the fact that it alluded me completely. It's a blow to any ex-detective's ego if he misses something that's literally staring him in the face. I mean it's downright _shitty._

I stuck a cigarette in the corner of my mouth and lit it, all the while keeping Liz's face in my peripheral's. When Deb turned away to run her board, I noticed Liz's eyes flicker to my face…once…twice…and a third time. However, any thoughts running through my mind about this new little problem were interrupted by the voice over the radio.

Deb had just hung up on a fella' who really needed a girlfriend, when his voice invaded the room:

"Good evening, Deb."

His voice snapped my head around. Damn it, I've heard it before. Deb seemed unaffected:

"Yes, I think that's implied by the title of the show."

He chuckled. It sounded like the boogey-man under every five-year-old's bed.

"Do you ever worry, Deb, that the world is going to end?"

"I haven't felt that way since Brad Pit got married."

That chuckle again. "Do you have any idea how insignificant you are? When they start devouring the world, you will be but a blood stain on their capes."

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

"There is a red star in the night sky. The blood of mortals, and the blood of ages, all will be consumed. They are coming. These…are the Final Nights."

My body tensed and I inadvertently grabbed my knife. Deb's eyes widened into plates, but she handled the mike:

"Ok, well, good luck in the next election, Senator. Apologies to all you night owls out there, but this girl's got something she's got to care of for the next few minutes. Here's a little music to keep you…up, if you get my meaning."

With that, she punched a button with a shaking finger and Incubus played through the speakers. I was no better; my body was as stiff as a board with paranoia and suspicion…and maybe a little fear as well.

"Gabe, what the hell was that?" Deb asked, her voice shaking just as much as her finger.

"I've heard him before, damn it. I know I have…shit. Fucking shit!" I shouted as I pulled my hair in frustration.

Lizzie-girl stared at us with her mouth open in a small 'o'. "Um…what's the problem?"

Deb looked at Liz for a moment, then glared at me, "You didn't tell her, did you? God, what am I thinking; of course you didn't."

She was talking about the legend of Caine and the Final Nights and all that bullshit. You could call me a nonbeliever. "I didn't feel that it was necessary," I responded a little defensively.

"You should tell her, Gabe! Just because you don't believe the legends doesn't mean you shouldn't teach them!"

"What fuckin' use is it?! It's all a bunch of mythological horse-shit with no fuckin' purpose other than to scare other Kindred! A fuckin' dog could hump some nutty Malkavian's leg and spray jizz all over his pants, and if he called it a sign of the Final Nights, vampires everywhere would piss themselves if they were fuckin' physically able!"

That stopped Deb for about a minute, but my rants tend to do that to people. Unfortunately, Liz seemed immune:

"Hey, what are the hell are you two talking about?" She asked with her arms crossed. "What haven't you told me, Gabe?"

"It's nothing," I grunted.

Deb recovered. "Tell her."

I took my burning cigarette from the corner of my mouth and crushed it in my hand. I tossed it to the ground, dug out and lit another, then snarled "You wanna fuckin' know? Fine. Way back in the day, there were Caine and Abel, the sons of Adam. Now, some bullshit happened and Caine killed his brother, then the big Man upstairs punished ol' Caine for his fuckin' shenanigans, and made him the first Kindred. Well, Caine does what every Kindred does and makes him some Childes, then they make their own. The Kindred of this third generation were named the Antediluvians, each representing a clan. Now, these big boys have been said to be in torpor since the Great Flood, but the _legends _say they're gonna wake up and fuckin' eat us. That's called Gehenna…the great fuckin' blood buffet, two for one, free for kids on fuckin' Sundays. Now, all the events, signs…whatever… that lead to Gehenna are called, 'The Final Nights'. There, happy now? Did ya write that all down? I sure to God hope so, cause the next class ain't till fuckin' Spring semester!"

Did I say Liz was immune? She apparently just needed a bigger dose. Both women were staring at me like I just clubbed a baby seal with a big grin on my face and a boner in my pants. I shrugged off their looks and took a deep drag. Liz was the first to break the silence and a fire had lit in her eyes:

"You didn't have to be an asshole about it."

"And you didn't need to know."

"Why are you so uptight about this?"

"Cause its fuckin' useless information."

"That's not it," Deb interrupted. "I've seen you argue about theology before, babe, but you've never been this intense about it…"

"I'm just pissed. I've had a shitty night."

I could only hope that would fool Deb for at least another five minutes. The truth was I had figured out who – or what – had spoken on the radio, and I didn't like the damn answer. Didn't like it at all, cause now I had to take a few measures.

I caught Liz's eye and said, "And not another damn question out of you. I'm gettin' sick of 'em."

That fire in her eyes doubled in size. "What did you say!?"

"You heard me, pup. Just get in the fuckin' car and start her up."

"Fuck you!"

"You're the one who wanted a new Sire, ain't I right? So just shut up and do what I say."

"Go fuck yourself, Gabe! If I had known you have the capacity to be such an asshole, I never would've asked you in first place!" She yelled as threw her arms around in the air. "I'd be fine on my own! I don't _need_ your fucking help!"

And here came the difficult part. I deadened my feelings and my eyes closed to slits. "Then leave," I said with a trace of emotion.

For a moment, all the anger slipped from her face like water running down a window. Just for a moment, I saw an unbelievable sadness. But the anger returned like wildfire and she spun around and left the room with a huff and a growl. That was the last time I saw her in about two weeks.

I sighed I heard the front door slam and went to tap the ash off my cigarette. I didn't get far though, as Deb rose from her chair and punched me in the face.

"OW! Jesus Christ, what was that for!?" I yelped as I held my now-broken nose. The girl had a hell of a right for someone so tender-looking.

"Um…you're a motherfucking jackass. How's that for a reason, darling?" Deb said in a quiet, yet dangerous voice.

I grunted and painfully popped my nose back into place. My eyes watered as I sniffed and snorted a few times to check the pipes, then said, "I didn't mean what I said."

"What?"

"Something clicked when I heard that voice. Oh, I remember who it is, by the way; a Tzimisce by the name of Andrei."

"Andrei…I think I've heard of him."

"Wouldn't doubt it. Last time I was in L.A., he was in a power struggle to lead the Sabbat here. Not sure how that ended, but hell, he's still breathing, apparently. Anyway, I thought of something after he finished speaking…why would he call tonight of all nights to make his warning of the Final Nights, huh? What's so important about tonight?"

Deb frowned in thought for a second, but her eyes widened as it dawned on her. "The Prince is keeping an eye on her..."

"And apparently so are others," I finished.

"But why? What's so important about an unexpected Fledgling Gangrel?"

"Haven't really figured out that one yet, but it's on my list."

Deb continued to frown as she took out another of her own cigarettes and lit the tip. "You still haven't really told me why you drove her off like you did."

I took a drag and said, "While I wasn't with her, no one made an assassination attempt on her life. Someone doesn't want her trained…and is willing to exterminate her if she is."

Deb still glared at me and I knew damn well why. I said in exasperation, "I couldn't just tell to pretend we had a falling out. That would've fooled no one. Lizzie-girl's a couple of interesting things, but an actor ain't one of 'em. She wears her emotions on her sleeves, if you get my drift. She had to _feel _it."

Deb didn't look happy, but her features softened. She sighed. "I just wish you didn't have to hurt her like that, Gabriel. I saw the look in her eyes."

"I saw it too, Deb," I grunted.

She sighed out a cloud of smoke. "I suppose what's done is done. Want me to look after her?"

I nodded. "Please. You have my number, keep me updated."

"So what are you going to do?"

I blew smoke through my nose and watched it spiral lazily in the light. "I think, for the time being, I can put my own issues aside for a while."

"Yes, I heard what happened to Alex. Sorry."

I waved her off. "Never mind. I'm getting over it…gotta adapt or die, right?" I didn't wait for a response. "I'm gonna do a little digging on Lizzie-girl and see why all the higher-ups find her so damn interesting…or dangerous. Whichever. Then I'm gonna fix it."

"Fix it?"

I caught her eyes with mine. "Fix it."

_End of Part VIII_


	9. Chapter 9

Hello again, readers. Allow me to forewarn the more squeamish audience of my readers, there is, indeed, a slight torture scene in Part 9...that is all, enjoy, boys and

girls.

* * *

About a week or so later, I found myself in the basement of an abandoned apartment building with three different vampires: one Sabbat, one Cammie, and an Anarch…I don't discriminate. They were all higher-ups in each of their individual organizations, so I figured at least one of 'em could slip out a tidbit of information. I snatched each of 'em from their havens just before dawn and took them here. I've been torturing them for about three nights straight. I had the Sabbat tied up, in chains, in a chair in the corner of the room. The other two I had tied up and hanging from the ceiling rafters so they could watch.

"For the love of Caine, I don't know anything about any Fledgling!" The Sabbat screamed, and by god, he was a damn screamer. I had been working this fella' and the Cammie particularly hard; after all, all evidence pointed that one of 'em had to know something. The Anarch was just a maybe.

"Now, now, take it easy, buddy-roo. We both know ya got something locked away in that noggin of yours, and I plan dig it out even if I have to use a spoon. So ya might as well spill it so I can let ya outta here. I bet you're workin' up one helluva thirst, ain't ya?"

"Please, just let me go," he sobbed. Hell, the guy was a damn fine actor. He was even crying blood…at least I think he was. Kinda hard to tell with his face covered in the stuff.

I lit a cigarette and he cringed. I didn't really blame him; I had been using his face as an ashtray. I inhaled a lung-full of smoke and walked over to my work table. It was covered in a variety of knives, hammers, a couple of drills, a bone-saw, barbwire, and a blowtorch. I picked up a knife and saw my reflection in it; I had a scar across my eye from where the Assamite slashed me. It had healed, but he marked me for life. It actually looked kinda cool in my opinion…made me look intimidating. I walked back to the Sabbat and when his eyes caught the knife, he started screaming again.

"Dude, just shut the fuck up and take it like a fucking man," said the Anarch above us. He was a young looking guy with long brown hair, and was dressed in a tie-dye shirt and ripped jeans…70's apparel if I've ever seen it. "I mean seriously, I don't think anyone in the history of the world has had a more annoying scream. I would rather take the _torture_ than listen to you fucking yelp all damn night."

"I have to agree with the young man here, it _is _rather unsettling," the Cammie joined in. He looked and talked like he had been around in the 1800's and his hair was a shiny shade of grey. "Mr. Black, could you possibly stitch his mouth shut? I'm sure it would benefit us all."

"I would, sir, but I gotta hear 'em if he decides to tell me something," I said as I carved away another one of the Sabbat's fingers. He was now down to three. The stump began to pour blood as he screamed again…big surprise. I walked back to the table and picked up the blowtorch in one hand and the fuel tank in the other. I took them back to the Sabbat, turned on the gas, clicked the flame to life, and cauterized the wound so it wouldn't grow back.

"Now," I said to him, "do I need to continue or do you want to tell me something?"

"Nonbeliever! The Antediluvians will devourer you! You and the rest-"

I snapped him in the jaw twice. Think I heard it break.

"Yeah, I've heard that story a time or two, so why don't ya sale me something different, would ya slick?"

He spat out a tooth, but said nothing. I sighed and flicked my cigarette ideally, my eyes drifting upward towards the Cammie. "How about you, sir? Ready to spill it about Ms. Martindale?"

Usually the old man would say something sarcastic, yet tasteful…he was actually a pretty funny guy, but this time, he just sorta stared. He looked like his was thinking very, very hard, and I'd be a liar if I said my dead heart didn't jump at the sight of it.

"Well?" I pushed.

He sighed. "Mr. Black, I have been a part of the Camarilla for over two hundred years and I was…once…proud to say that I was a member of Prince LaCroix's advising council, but I am afraid that has changed."

"Oh shit, old man's about to talk," the Anarch muttered.

The Cammie ignored him. "As I've grown older, I've witnessed the Prince's rule grow from a democracy to a monarchy. He ignores our advice on almost every occasion, and does what he desires despite the consequences. I've grown tired of my voice not being heard, Mr. Black, so I've finally decided to talk to you."

"Why didn't ya tell me earlier? We could've saved a lotta time, sir."

"I love the Camarilla, Mr. Black, I truly do, but I hate what LaCroix is turning it into. I just didn't come to terms with it until this very moment."

I nodded and he continued:

"Elizabeth Martindale – or Liz as she likes to be called – had a very special Sire. He was, we believe, from the direct line of Ennoia herself."

"Mother of the Beasts… Antediluvian of all Gangrel," the Sabbat moaned.

"Correct, good sir. Ms. Martindale's Sire showed incredible progress as soon as he himself was Embraced. I believe he obtained a full Protean transformation in under a month."

"Impossible," I muttered. "It took me over eight years…"

"And even that is considered extraordinary in regular circumstances. Unfortunately for the Sire, he began to space himself farther and farther from Camarilla society, and his Embracing of Ms. Martindale was the final straw. LaCroix's believed that if he couldn't control him, no one would…and this is most likely the case with young Elizabeth."

"I won't let him."

"I hope that you don't, Gabriel. So, now that our business is finally at an end, when do you intend to kill us?"

"What?! Whoa, wait a minute, man!" The Anarch yelled. "He said he was gonna let us go!"

I didn't look at him as I took the Colt Python that I had bought last week from behind my pants.

"Dude, what the hell!?"

"He can't let us go, young man. Not while we know his name and face," the old Cammie said. He turned back towards me. "Make it quick, if you would…and may I ask you a favor?"

"Shoot."

"Kill him. Kill LaCroix and free this city from his tyranny."

"I'm no freedom-fighter, old man. I'm just lookin' to even the fuckin' score."

The muzzle of the Python flashed three times. I tossed my cigarette to the ground and left. I hate the stink of ashes.

As I made my way outside the apartment building and onto the street, I caught a familiar scent in the air. The howl I heard a few seconds later confirmed my thoughts and as I walked down the sidewalk, I spotted the one-and-only Beckett.

"Well, well," I said as a grin spread across my face. "If it ain't the traveler himself."

"Nice to see you too," he replied as his glasses shined in the moon light. "Hmm…the scar is new. Have a tussle with an Assamite, Gabe?"

"Just last week, actually. So what're ya doin' in town, slick?"

"Quite a few things, actually. I've been asked by LaCroix to investigate a sarcophagus he managed to dig up somewhere." He sighed. "You know, as many times as I go over the evidence that Caine did not, in fact, exist, these _morons_ continue to fawn over his image. Boggles the mind, hmm?"

I grunted.

"Anyway, the sect is meeting tonight in Griffith Park. I was…sent…to fetch you."

"Griffith Park? The Werewolves are letting us use it?"

"As long as we don't hunt or claim it as _our _territory, Hector said we could use it. They understand the need for fresh air too."

Hector led the Wolves in L.A. and he's considered a major thorn in LaCroix's side…we've hung out a time or two. Gangrel and Werewolves tend to get along. Birds of feather, right?

"Truth be told, Beckett, my friend, I ain't really feeling any sorta reunion tonight. I've got way too much shit on my mind."

"That's lovely, but if _I _have to participate, then you have to. Rule's rules, old boy," Beckett said with a slight smirk.

I sighed. No damn time to think tonight.

_End of Part IX_


	10. Chapter 10

Good lord...six months...seriously? What the hell's the matter with me? Anywho, more story.

* * *

Beckett and I drove towards Griffith Park in my black Caddy…against his protests.

"I really don't see _any_ reason at all to take this car. I mean, the park is only fifteen miles, we could have ran."

"Shit, I wasn't about to leave my Caddy Downtown. It'd gotten jacked as soon as I'd left."

"_Your _Caddy?"

"Alex is dead, Beckett," I said without much emotion.

His eyes widened slightly, but other than that, he didn't seem very affected.

"Ah, my apologies; your Caddy indeed."

We didn't say much else on the way; Beckett didn't like cars and I had too much on my mind. We pulled into the base of the park, and I parked my car in the lot. I locked it up, and we took the tram up the mountain in silence; Beckett looked a little sick on the way up…I guess he's the claustrophobic type. By the time we reached the top, I noticed the glimmer of fire and the bodies around them; the Sect was here.

We exited the tram was walked towards the fires. The crowd of about sixty noticed us at once, and approached to greet us. I shoot some hands, smiled, all that jazz, but I wasn't focused on them at all. I was trying to figure out the next move I needed to take in this fucking game. The Prince definitely knew something, but would it be safe to approach him with his eyes on Lizzie-girl? No, of course not. I needed to recap: the Prince, and maybe Andrei, wanted Liz for himself because of her potential; theoretically, she could overpower the Sheriff in about a month's training, and that's one hell of a playing card. As far I knew, the Prince was only watching at the moment, but Andrei may act, and I sure as hell can't have that.

My thoughts were interrupted by a large hairy man with one eye who decided to crush me in a hug...his name's Bob, and he's Canadian…eh?

"Gabe! It's been too long, eh? Where yah been, fella?" He asked as my ribs began to crack.

"Oh, here and there, Bob. Could you please lemme go? I need my ribs for a variety of things."

"Oh! Sorry there, buddy," he said as he released me from the logs he calls arms. Bob is roughly around 6'8, and over 300 pounds; about half of it hair. He's like a bear wrapped in flannel overalls, I swear.

"Oh hey, lookit that right there, eh," he said, pointing to the scar across my eye. "Heh, trying to be like big Bob, eh?"

Bob ran a finger across the horrific scar that covered the right side of his face, a memento from a diligent, and now very dead, Hunter. From what ol' Bob-bo said, the fucker smacked him in the face with a damn torch; it fucked up his eye completely, but the Hunter got the worse end of the deal. Ya see, Bob doesn't like getting hit in the face with a flaming object…tends to piss him off a bit. I don't know what's it's like to have your body smashed so hard into a tree that it literally merges with it, but I'd rather not find out. I like my skin.

I brushed myself off, and checked my ribs to see if any were broken, then lit a cigarette and said, "So how 'bout you, Bob? What you been doin'?"

"Been keepin' an eye on the Yetis up north, eh? Watchin' their pack movements and such."

I frowned. "Any problems? They moving into Kindred territory?"

"Not really. They mostly keep to themselves these days."

"Well, that's good to know. Last thing we need is a damn war with a bunch of Abdominal Snowmen in fuckin' Canada. Shit, we're doin' a helluva good job killin' ourselves in L.A."

"Oh really, eh? I haven't been down here in a while."

"It's bullshit, Bob. I fuckin' hate it here. Nothin' but fuckin' politics and power plays."

"Hmm, fuck that jazz, right?"

"Damn straight, Bob-bo. So what's the story here?"

"Meh, just waiting on the Wolves to show up; welcoming party and that stuff, eh?"

I grunted. "More like 'stay too long and we'll eat you party'."

Bob kinda looked at me.

"…Yeah, that wasn't great. I'm tired, Bob."

My witty genius was thankfully interrupted by Isaac, the head honcho of the sect. Isaac was about 5'8 and some change, with long black hair and face full of stubble. He had achieved sect leader about four years ago, beating the shit out of Marcus, the old leader, in a battle to the death. Rare as these fights are, most of the sect, including Alex and I, believed it necessary; Marcus was a grubby, power-hungry prick, but too tough and too mean for anyone else to overthrow…until Isaac came along. Despite his small size, I don't think I've ever seen anything as viscous as that motherfucker. He glared at me with his bright orange eyes and said, "Gabe, I need to talk to you." His eyes flicked towards Bob's massive frame. "Privately."

Bob and I nodded, and I followed him toward the edge of the forest where our conversation wouldn't be overheard by curious ears. I took a long drag from my cigarette and listened to what Isaac had to say:

"First of all, I wish my apologies for the loss of your master. She was strong."

I nodded curtly, surprised that her name still brought a flood of emotion in me.

"Secondly, with her death, you've been promoted to fourth-in-sect, below myself, Mona, and Beckett."

Big deal.

"And thirdly, I've taken notice that you've been taking recent company with Martindale."

He caught me on that one. Jesus, did fuckin' _everyone_ in L.A. know I've been teaching her?

"Yes, most in the city you've been associated with her."

I blanched. "That's just creepy, Isaac."

"I play a lot of poker," he said with a straight face. "People give more tells than they think. Anyway, I think it's in your best interest to stay away from her. Too many eyes and bad intentions towards that one."

I snorted. "I've already figured out what LaCroix and Andrei want with her, Isaac. I appreciate the advice, but I know what I'm getting into."

Isaac simply stared. "LaCroix and Andrei aren't the only players in Los Angeles, Gabe. Nor are they the only ones chasing after that girl."

My eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

--

Several miles away, a man dressed in black walked down the wet sidewalk of Santa Monica. Along with a long overcoat that nearly touched the ground and a wide-brimmed fedora, he wore, despite the rain and the late hour, an old pair of round sunglasses. He turned a corner and moved into an alley, where three men stood passing around a dark plastic bag. Upon closer inspection, the man in black noticed the bag to be filled with dark blood. One of the other men noticed him and grinned, dirty yellow fangs pressing hard against his lips. He spoke in a rasp, "Well well, boys, looks like the sheep just walked into the lion's den."

The others snickered as the bag was dropped to the ground, leaking red in the puddles, releasing the smell of old copper into the air. The man in black ignored them and pulled a picture out of his pocket. He raised it towards the yellow fanged vampire and asked in a deep, baritone voice, "Have you seen this woman?"

The girl had brown hair, a pale complexion, and light blue eyes. Yellow-fang just grinned. "Haven't seen her, but she looks tasty. Although you'll do for tonight. Boys!"

The two other vampires leaped forward at superhuman speed, claws and teeth bared in hungry desire. The man in black did not flinch, but raised his right fist in an arch and caught one of the vampires with an uppercut. The sound of a breaking jawbone disguised the metal-on-metal ring as a one-foot blade slid out from the man in black's sleeve and pushed through the first vampire's skull. As the first turned immediately to ash, the man in black caught the second around the throat with this left hand, flexed, and collapsed his throat. The vampire barely had any time to register the pain before the blade, still covered in his friend's ash, decapitated him. This took perhaps three seconds.

Yellow-fang could not seem to register what happened, his grin now slipping quickly off his face. The man in black made a movement with his fingers and Yellow-fang was slammed against the alley wall, unable to move a single muscle save for his eyes, which now darted and spun in fear. "What are you?!" He gasped. "What do you want?!"

The man in black raised the picture again, holding it between Yellow-fang's eyes. "Where is she?"

"I don't know!"

The man in black tucked the picture into his coat and raised his blade towards Yellow-fang's throat.

"Wait! Wait! Martindale?! Was that chick Martindale?! The new fledgling everyone's talking about?!"

The man in black nodded.

"Yeah, yeah! Me and the boys saw her! Here, in Santa Monica!"

"Thank you."

The man flexed his fingers and Yellow-fang's head exploded.

_End of Part X_


	11. Chapter 11

Don't know if I still remember's Gabe's voice, but here's a try. Thanks for the encouragement, boys and girls.

* * *

I stared at Isaac for what must have been a few minutes. It was the smell of burning foam that roused me out of my haze; my cigarette had burned to the filter. I tossed the butt to the ground and snatched another from my pack. I lit it and puffed furiously. Didn't make sense. Who was this guy?

"Who is he?" I finally asked.

"We don't know. Six foot eight, Haitian, and seems to have some knowledge of voodoo. That's all the intelligence the Nosferatu have at the moment. But he is most definitely looking for your girl," Isaac responded with no emotion. "Like I said, you need to be careful."

Before I ask him anymore questions, Bob came running over to us.

"Hey! Da wolves are here! "

Isaac nodded at him and turned back to me. "Come. We need to inform our cousins of your master's death and your ascension in the sect."

Isaac and I walked backed towards the group. The sect had moved towards one end of the camp. There seemed to be some tension among them. Isaac seemed to pick up on it as well, cause his strides became a little bit longer. We were joined by Beckett and Mona. Mona's a curvy redhead who used to be the butt of every big tits joke in the sect. That is until she nearly perfected the art of Animalism; that bitch could call up a damn _plague_ of blood bats if she wanted to.

We approached a small group of men and women across from our camp. I recognized a few of the Lupines, but I didn't see the pack leader, Hector. Normally his seven foot tall, five feet wide ass would be right in the center of his pack, his consort Rebecca at his side, but she was gone as well…

I saw Isaac's nostrils flare. Shit, that's the only expression of his I've seen all night. He directed his bright orange eyes at the wolves. "Who leads?" He asked.

A tall woman with scars across her face and wild hair stepped forward. "I do. I am Emily."

Isaac nodded. "Where is Hector? Rebecca?"

"Gone. They've feasted on tainted blood. One of your Kindred brothers."

A few of my brothers and sisters started whispering among themselves. Looks were exchanged between my sect and the Lupine. I growled. I couldn't goddamn help it. Fuck the snowmen; the last thing I needed was a fuckin' turf war with the Los Angeles Werewolves.

"What happened?" I asked.

Ms. Emma turned her nasty yellow eyes towards me. "Who is this?"

"Gabe. Fourth in Sect since the death of my master. Now answer the damn question, sweetheart."

A few of the wolves bared their teeth at that and even Isaac threw me a look, but the wolf actually smiled. "You're a brave one, Gabe. Bold in the face of teeth and claw."

"I lived in Memphis."

"Ha! I see. A Kindred trespassed into our forests. It seemed intentional; he arrived early in the evening. He smelled…wrong. Dangerous. Hector decided to hunt him himself, along with his consort and me. When they attacked, the vampire offered no resistance. He surrendered himself to their teeth. A few hours later, our leader and his mate lost themselves. They've gone mad and now roam the forest…killing all in their path It was the blood, Gangrel. The vampire's blood."

Beckett rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I've heard rumors of some sort of sickness spreading throughout the Kine in the city…"

"As of I," Mona chipped in. "Along the Kindred as well. A sort of plague."

"I give my word to look into it, Emily. But for now, we ask your permission for use of your pack's land," Isaac said.

"You may have use for a single night, Isaac. No more. And we must remain present; should Hector and his mate arrive, it is our duty to slay them."

Isaac nodded and bowed low to the beast girl. She did the same and the wolves retreated towards the tree line. I couldn't help but sigh in relief. I pulled a smoke out of my pack and lit it. I took a deep drag and exhaled through my nose. It was bad that Hector had gone wild. Very bad indeed. I'd only seen him in his true form once, and by God, that had been enough. He was possibly one of the largest, most vicious, and undoubtedly dangerous werewolves in existence. And it was certainly possible that the strength of his former pack wouldn't be enough to take him down, let alone him and Rebecca both. They wouldn't come here tonight though; too many Kindred and Lupine in one place for any wild beast to take on.

As I thought about Hector and his massive, massive teeth, I felt a hard jab in the center of my back. I snorted an air full of smoke and turned around. It was some pup, a kid with a messy shock of blonde hair staring damn hard at me.

I looked him over. Dude looked green as a cucumber. "Can I help you, boyo?"

"Rite," he replied shortly, his eyes boring holes into mine.

A slight hush came across the sect as they heard the word.

I raised an eyebrow. "You sure, kid?"

"I'm not a fucking child. And I didn't take my place in Sect by my master kicking the bucket. I fought for it. Rite."

My goddamn blood boiled. "So be it. Combat, I assume. Unless ya wanna brag about the big nuts you got fer instigatin' yer own ass-whuppin'?"

My accent came out in waves. I was pissed.

He would've flushed if he were human. "Combat."

I took another hard drag. "Ya'll heard the pup, boys and girls. Outta the way."

My brothers and sisters surrounded my challenger and me, but gave us plenty of space. I turned my eyes towards the boy and stared him down hard. "Come then."

The kid popped his claws out immediately and howled at me with a mouthful of fangs. He crouched on all fours and leaped right for my throat. Stupid young bastard. So slow. I didn't even bother to transform. I waited until he was maybe a foot away from me before I brought the toe of my shoe to his jaw. The kick unhinged it and knocked him about a yard up into the air. Before he could land, I nailed another kick to his chest and heard the satisfying sound of a multiple ribs breaking. The boy landed hard as I ashed my smoke. He crawled back to his feet though, standing tall even after the broken bones. I decided to end it quickly then. Kid deserved that after standing back up. I darted forward delivered three more blows: a strike each to his elbows and another to his right knee. I heard three breaks and the fight was over. He'd be unable to continue until those breaks healed.

I walked off. I'd done the meet and greet and all that bullshit. I was tired and angry and had even more questions to answer and problems to face. Not even Isaac stopped me after he saw the look on in my eyes.

I'd make it back into town too late to get any work done. I decided to just pack it in. I got in my Caddy and drove towards Downtown.

_End of Part XI_


	12. Chapter 12

There will be a translation at the bottom of the page…you'll prolly need it.

* * *

I stayed the night in an abandoned apartment at the Skyeline. I arose from my torpor just as the sun began to set. I watched the news while I waited for the rays to settle completely. It had apparently been a rough week for LA; stolen artifacts, a couple of gang hits on the Triads and Mafia, and a damn warehouse blowin' up. Heh, looked like my little robbery last week was old news indeed. My phone chirped and I snapped it open. The bright blue screen reported that I had a new email.

I didn't have a computer, but I had noticed the guy above my room carried a laptop case. I tossed on a shirt and my coat, made sure my knives and pistol were secure, lit a smoke, and crawled up the ventilation ducts to his room. I didn't smell him when I got to his floor, so I opened the grate and crawled out. I took a minute to look around before I saw the case on his coffee table. I opened her up; it was a pretty little Dell with all the fixin's. I took out my wallet and threw down a grand on the table. I took my new laptop back down to my room and plugged it in. The first thing that showed up when it started was a password login.

I have skills, now.

I can track, kill, torture, hunt, fire almost any weapon and swing any knife. I was a homicide detective in life and one of the fastest Kindred in the USA in death. I can summon spectral wolves and blood bats to do my killin' for me, I can turn my bones to steel and my skin to rock, and I can turn into a goddamn boogeyman if that's not enough.

But fuck me, I can barely even type.

I closed the laptop shut and put it back in its case. I had a whole damn list of chores to do, but not knowing what that email said would drive me crazy. Plus, I paid for the computer, so I wanted to use it. I crawled back into the ducts and made my way to the basement. From there, I held my breath and descended into the sewers of Los Angeles to talk to the best tech guy in the business.

Three hours later I finally found my way to the Nosferatu nesting grounds and my boots were decidedly covered about a dozen different kinds of shit. I was feening for a cigarette too. Three hours of reminding yerself that methane's explosive ain't easy for a smoker. A couple sentries met me outside. I chatted with 'em for a minute and they let me in. Gary, the main man in the underground, owed me a favor or two and the guards knew it.

I wandered around until I heard the grunts of one of the best computer hackers on Earth:

"Fuckin' cockhead. Try to sticky me again. You see that, Largo?"

"l0l'Z!"

"I know, right? Frag that bastard, will ya?"

"Phr49! Phr49! Phr49! Phr49! Phr49! Phr49! Phr49! Phr49! Phr49! Phr49! Phr49!"

"**DOUBLE KILL!"**

"**TRIPLE KILL!"**

"**OVERKILL!"**

"**KILLTACULAR!"**

"**KILLTROCITY!"**

"**KILLAMANJARO"**

"**KILLTASTROPHE!"**

"**KILLAPOCALYPSE!"**

"**KILLIONAIRE!"**

"Jesus Christ…you just got like…twenty medals…"

"l0l'Z. nuBz."

You could say I was curious.

I walked in Mitnick's room to see whatever the hell that was. I saw his ugly ass sitting on a worn out bean bag chair with a video game controller in his hands staring at a massive high definition TV. Sitting next to him was another Kindred with purple dreadlocks wearing a monocle and a full body green and pink spandex suit…more than likely a Malkavian. Mitnick was so absorbed in his game he barely noticed me enter.

"Eh? That you, Gabe?" He asked without taking his eyes off the screen.

"Sure is, boyo. Got me some hardware I need you to crack. Who's dat next to ya?"

"j0 w0LFY B0Y. l4r90'2 73H N4m3 4Nd FR4991n'2 73h 94M3. 0r 12 h4L0 73H 94m3? 1dk L0l!" The Malk screamed.

"…and what in god's name just came out of his mouth?"

Mitnick chuckled. "This is Largo. Used to be one of the best hackers in the biz. Fuckin' good at Halo too, till' he trolled another Malkavian online. Dude found him through the Madness Network and Embraced him. Gary managed to set him up down here with me; we got this internet/Madness mix goin' on that's just fuckin' delicious. If a fly takes a shit in China, we'll know about it."

"That still doesn't explain what the fuck's coming out of his mouth."

Largo laughed. "l337 5p33cH, NU8. L0L. PHUCK1n' w0lFY NU8C4k3."

"It's called Leet Speech. Big on the interwebs," Mitnick muttered. "What you need?"

"This computer needs a password. I don't have one. Fix it."

"l0l!"

"And tell him to shut up."

Mitnick chuckled as I handed him the case. He opened it up and took out the hardware. His hands flew across the keyboard after he powered it up. After about a minute he handed it back to me.

"All done. And I also connected you to our Wi-Fi. That'll be one cigarette, please."

I tossed him a smoke and accessed my email. The message popped up…and I swore.

"Mitnick, what the fuck? This email's from you!"

"Yeah."

"Then why'd you hack this?"

"Fuck, dude, I wanted a cigarette."

_End of Part XII_

* * *

Largo's translated dialog:

"Lol's"

"Frag! Frag! Frag! Frag! Frag! Frag! Frag! Frag! Frag! Frag! Frag!"

"Lol's. Newbs."

"Yo, wolfy boy. Largo's the name and fraggin's the game. Or is Halo the game? I.D.K. (I don't know) lol!"

"Elite speech, newb. Lol. Fucking wolfy nubcake."


	13. Chapter 13

More translated dialog at the bottom

* * *

I sighed.

"Well what's it involve?" I asked.

"Dude," Mitnick replied as his eyes drifted back towards the massive television. "Just read it."

I glared at him.

"Fine, whatever, man." He took a drag. "Your girl, Deb; she sent word to us watchers to keep an eye on that fledgling everyone's making such a ruckus about. She always plays the songs I request, so I decided to give it a go. Turns out the kid's making a name for herself, man. And lot's of peeps are lookin' her way."

"What kind of people?"

"Eh, the ones you'd expect of course: LaCroix, the Anarchs, and the Sabaat. Maybe even the Kuei-jin, but those fucks are tough to get a read on. But then that mystery man who iced three shovelheads turned up."

"The Haitian, right?"

"Straight skippy, brother. Lemme tell you this, Gabe; I can find dirt on anyone. ANYONE. But this dude…shit, there was barely a scrap. Me and Largo went nuts researching that guy…well…at least I went nuts."

"mAdn335 15 a5 maDn335 d035! L0L! 1 3 70m h4nX," Largo chipped in.

"I fuckin' loved Castaway man."

"W1l50n!"

"…and did you two turn up anything?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, actually. Found a pic from China in 1888."

Mitnick walks over three desktops lined up against the wall next to the TV. He opens up a folder from the desktop. In it are perhaps thousands of photos. He selects one; it's a picture of a couple smiling in front of a busy market district. Mitnick zooms in on the top right corner.

"Look here. See him standing next to the white guy?"

I squint as I check it out. The photo's fuzzy, even though Mitnick probably enhanced it. I can make out the Haitian. Fucker's so big it's tough not to. I can tell that he's speaking to a white male wearing a cowboy hat, but that's all.

"What's this mean, Mitnick?"

"Couple things, dude. Whoever this guy is, he's old, but has retained his youth."

"Might be dead fer all we know."

"He ain't Kindred, dude. Ain't a werewolf either. And I've never heard of a zombie using voodoo before."

I grunted. "So that means he's either some kinda demon or a powerful Kine."

"We're leaning towards Kine at the moment. We've seen him on a couple of security cameras around the city. We've know he's eaten as least one meal at a burger joint."

"And demons prefer fresher meat. Well shit. Do ya have anything else on him?"

"Only that he's interested in that puppy of yours. And he's a fuckin' ghost when it comes to information. Finding that picture was pure luck, man. Largo was surfing for Lolcats when he-"\

Largo suddenly gripped his skull and started convulsing on his beanbag chair.

"N0! 7H3 k0Nn3c710N 12 s3v3R3D! Us3r k1CK3d! ph0UR-0h-F0uR, ph0uR-0h-F0ur! Kann07 Ph1Nd 9R0u7, kANN07 pH1nd 9r0U7!"

"Jesus!" Mitnick yelled as he rushed to his friend. "Largo, what happened to Grout?"

"U5ER PHr49eD! term1n4teD! dELeteD! k4nnOT PH1nD, k4NNot PH1Nd!"

"What the fuck's going on?" I asked. "What's this about Grout?"

Mitnick turned to me. "Largo says he connection to the Madness Network has been severed…that's what I think, anyway. Dude, Malkavians can't turn that off…"

I grimaced. Fuck…the death of a Primogen would cause all sorts of chaos.

"Take care of him. I need to get to work before all the shit hits the fan. Keep me updated, though."

Mitnick nodded and tried to restrain the wiggling Malkavian. As I turned to leave, I heard to the crazy bastard gasp in a lungful of air. He said:

"The Bat will slay the Mother. This is written. But, should the Wolf break its chains, the Mother shall prosper and give birth to many children. This too is written. Sacrifice in darkness and blood. And the Children shall join the returning Father against the LIGHT and BLACK. Prepare and suffer well."

With that, the boy collapsed into an early torpor. Mitnick's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"He just…he spoke English. I've never heard him speak…"

I grabbed my computer and started walking. I already knew what would come next and I didn't want to deal with it. It was always a big deal when a Malkavian shared prophecy; the higher ups always drill the witnesses for every measly little detail. No thanks. I'm busy, thank ya.

As I walked out of the nest, Mitnick ran out after me.

"Yo Gabe! Hold up!"

I kept walking. "Make it quick.""Read the email! I think there may be more to this than there already is!"

I waved and continued down the sewers. God, when did this turn into such a clusterfuck? Heh, who'da thunk Lizzie would make ripples this big? A little college girl from Arizona bringing the Southwest's biggest players back into the game…

I walked down the sewers for about an hour until I found a place that didn't smell of methane. I leaned up against a slime covered wall and lit a smoke. As I exhaled, I heard someone moving down my way. I put my laptop case in a dry spot and eased my hand on pistol. More splashes. From the south. I waited. The smell hit me like a wave; a dry rot, fuckin' old. Almost toxic, even here in the goddamn Los Angeles sewers. I had to stop breathing; that smell was making me dizzy. I saw him walking an easy pace through the southern line; he was wearing a brown leather trench coat that was torn and ripped to shit. Old, rotting bandages covered his chest that seemed to bleeding a dark murky blood. On his belt were two empty holsters; the guns were in his hands. The skin around his jaw and left cheek bone were gone and his eyes glowed dull silver. Some of his hair had fallen out leaving patches of pale lifeless skin. His eyes caught mine and I imagine he tried to smile.

"Mr…Black," he rasped. "Leave…this…city. Do…not…interfere…"

"What the fuck are you?" I snarled.

It laughed. "An…old…copper…like...you. Given…a…new…purpose. Leave…now. This…is…your…last…warning. The…girl…is…ours."

"Heh, if I can't whoop a fuckin' mummy like you, I deserved to die in a sewer. C'mon, King Tut. Show me yer worth."

I drew my pistol and fired. The monster ducked left and fire four shots at me. Jesus, he's fast. I dropped to the floor and the bullets buried themselves into the wall above me. I fired two more rounds; the fucker dodged both and returned fire. I leaped from my position, but a bullet grazed my cheek. I growled and concentrated on transforming; I'd had it with this dance. But something was wrong.

My blood was on fire. The more I tried to transform, the more the pain coursed through my body. The mummy saw my convulsions of pain and smiled.

"Hurts…yes? No…magic…here…of…any…kind. I've…seen…to…that." He pointed to the walls and made a gesture. Bright red runes suddenly appeared around us. "Egyptian…wards."

I used his little display to calm myself down and fire two more rounds. They caught him right in the chest. He stumbled back a bit and looked down at his wounds.

"Now…that's…not…nice," he laughed as he unloaded on me.

_End of Part XIII_

* * *

Largo's Translated Dialog

Madness is as madness does! Lol! I love Tom Hanks.

Wilson!

No! The connection is severed! User kicked! Four-oh-four, four-oh-four! Cannot find Grout, cannot find Grout!

User fragged! Terminated! Deleted! Cannot find, cannot find!


End file.
